


and as the world comes to an end (i’ll be here to hold your hand)

by akingdomofunicorns



Series: hold me in this wild, wild world [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Gen, Just my favourite Stark girls having a sisterly chat, Show centric, Spoilers for Episode: S08E02, title from a of monsters and men song
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-23
Updated: 2019-04-23
Packaged: 2020-01-25 13:51:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18575773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akingdomofunicorns/pseuds/akingdomofunicorns
Summary: Arya knows her sister is japing with her, her last attempt at normalcy before they face the army of the dead.(Arya and Sansa share one last moment before the battle)





	and as the world comes to an end (i’ll be here to hold your hand)

“Have you let the bastard ruin you?” Sansa’s words are unkind, but her voice isn’t. Arya knows her sister is japing with her, her last attempt at normalcy before they face the army of the dead.

Arya comes to stand beside her on the outer wall of the castle; from here, they can see the miles of snow that cover the North, their father’s domain. No, their brother’s domain. It is strange still, to think the North belongs to her bastard brother, and not Ned Stark. It is strange still, to remember he is dead and never coming back. Sometimes she passes the halls and rounds the corners expecting to see them: Father’s fond smile as Mother braided her auburn hair, Robb laughing as the sun set and covered him in gold, Rickon’s sticky fingers begging for more lemon cakes. If she dies tonight, will she get to see them? Or will she rise again, blue-eyed and cold as ice?

“Aye, I have.”

“Father would throw a fit,” Sansa giggles, the sound carrying over to the soldiers that await death with them. They look at her with curiosity, perhaps love, but they avert their eyes quickly when they see Arya watching them.

“Mother would flay me alive.”

“It’s the end of the world, perhaps they would understand,” Sansa offers.

Beneath their feet, the Unsullied march in perfect lines like ants collecting sugar. If they feel the nipping cold, they do not show it. If they feel anything at all, Arya is not sure.

“I’m tired of not feeling anything,” she says. She can school her features and her voice, but Sansa is Sansa, and her eyes have always been sharper than most.

“You do feel things, Arya; you feel them deeper than the rest.”

“I was No One, I felt nothing.”

“You came back, though, and as headstrong as ever. If you were No One, would you be arguing with me right now? She wouldn’t argue about her feelings, would she? She wouldn’t argue about anything. You are Arya, you are still my sister.”

Arya sighs.

“Gendry didn’t ruin me,” she whispers, hoping the wind covers her words, “I was already ruined. I managed to keep my maidenhead all throughout the war, but I lost every bit of Arya Stark that I had in me. Every day is a battle to regain the pieces I left behind.”

Sansa is quiet for a long time, still as a pillar of ice. If Arya were braver, she’d run her fingers through that red hair of hers, she’d try to remember what it felt like to brush her mother’s hair, what it felt like to be lulled to sleep in her arms. But Sansa isn’t her mother, and sometimes Sansa doesn’t like to be touched.

“I tried to get to you, that last day,” Arya continues, “when they killed Father. I wanted to get to you and pull you out of the dais, but Yoren wouldn’t let me see the beheading, and he took me away before I could climb and get you. While he was taking me out of King’s Landing, I thought I would sneak out and help you escape. But I knew I couldn’t, so I thought I’d get to Robb and help him when he came to avenge Father. I’ll show him the way then, I thought, and I’ll gut Joffrey in front of Sansa so she can also have her revenge. I was a silly child, wasn’t I? And then I was No One, and I forgot I had a sister.”

“We’ve all lost bits and pieces of ourselves,” Sansa says, “some more than others. We were not dealt an easy hand, you and I, but we’ve played to the best of our capabilities. And I think we’ve come on top, each and every time. Let’s play one more round.”

Arya nods.

“What do we say to the god of Death?”

It feels like a lifetime ago, and she can almost taste the smell of salt and rot that covered King’s Landing the day she learned to cheat Death. The Unsullied have stopped marching, and the King’s Road is almost invisible under twenty inches of fresh snow. It feels like a lifetime ago, too, that the fat King rode through that road, and through their gates, and brought disaster with him.

 Sansa turns then, her angular face pinched in thought as she waits for the answer.

“Not today.”

Her sister smiles, pleased, and her blue eyes twinkle under the torchlight.

“No, certainly not today,” she says, “and not ever. The North remembers, and House Stark rises again, as strong as ever. No one is to take that from us ever again, not even the Night King.”

“Not even the Dragon Queen,” Arya adds.

“We’ll deal with her when the dead are ashes and spring comes again.”

“Treason,” Arya whispers, her tone mocking, a challenge she knows Sansa will take.

“They made Robb King in the North, and then they crowned Jon. The North stands, so do we; we crushed her dynasty once, we’ll do it again if we have to.”

“Jon loves her,” Arya points out.

“Jon loves the North more.”

“Aye, he does. Let’s survive, then. I want to see a crown on his head, perhaps I’ll even call you ‘Princess Sansa’ and ‘Your Highness’.”

“That’s all I ever wanted, sister, for you to call me ‘Your Highness’.” Sansa can’t even finish her sentence without dissolving in a fit of giggles, and her laughter is contagious, making Arya laugh, too. Death approaches with every minute, but they are still breathing, still alive, still pumping warm, red blood through their veins.

Sansa takes her hand, laces their fingers together. Her hand is cold without her gloves, her fingers long and thin.

“I’ll see you again when the sun rises. Let’s survive until then, Arya.”


End file.
